The Night Without an End: Watching 26/11 Unfold From My Window

First Person

The Night Without an End: Watching 26/11 Unfold From My Window

Illustration: Shruti Yatam

S

tanding at my window sipping a cup of tea, I watch in awe as painters put the final touches on the elaborate new facade of the Nariman House terrace. It’s hard to believe that this November will mark 10 years since the building was battered with bullets on 26/11. The main dome of the Taj, once visible from where I stand, is now hidden because of new buildings. So much has changed over the decade, yet the experience of living through the ordeal comes back to me as if it were only yesterday.

Paint cans and rollers strewn across the living room floor. Unopened cartons, wrapped furniture, all tied together in the centre of the room; covered in plastic blankets. It had barely been a week since my mother, younger brother, and I had moved into this apartment, that overlooked the magnificent dome of the Taj. I had just returned from college, the painters were clearing up for the day, and we laid out some newspapers on the floor for a dinnertime picnic. The TV, set up temporarily in the adjacent bedroom, was blaring away.

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